


Twist

by levythelevi



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, Gen, Levi's potty mouth, M/M, coffee shop because reasons, coffeeshop!au, eruri - Freeform, though not sure if it counts if neither of them work there?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 13:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levythelevi/pseuds/levythelevi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi didn't expect Erwin to catch him in the act of pickpocketing. Modern AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twist

Call it luck or fate or _whatever-the-fuck you soppy romantics want_ because, really, Shitty Brows shouldn’t have looked down at that moment. And Levi shouldn’t have looked up. But due to kismet or some trolling deity, blue eyes met beady grey ones.

He moved a little too fast to be just another suit like Levi had pegged him for. A large hand clamped down on Levi’s wrist before he could withdraw his hand from the man's pocket. It was such a nice wallet too, no doubt stuffed full of Ben Franklins and _Titanium-fucking-platinum-whatever_ credit cards, but that was moot because Levi already knew that he wouldn’t be able to twist his arm out of his hold.

“Fuck.”

“That’s one way to put it." His expression was so smooth the passerby on the sidewalk thought it was innocent conversation between two old acquaintances. Shitty Brows had the kind of blue eyes Levi usually attributed to babies and it creeped him the hell out to see it on a grown man whose eyebrows could suffocate said babies. “You should come with me if you don’t want to be arrested.” And speaking of babies... _how’s that for irony?_

“I don’t do that kind of shit, you fucking pedo,” he hissed. His joints stiffened, muscles pulling as taut as a drawn bow.

“That is not my intention,” the man said but Levi began to struggle. “Stop.” He managed to infuse one word with such authority that Levi obeyed for a moment. Then he remembered himself and opened his mouth to scream ‘rape’. Society would rush to his rescue - one of the perks of appearing physically frail and small.

But before he could make a peep, the other man's features tightened. So did his grip, until Levi felt his wrist bones grind together and only a small gasp of pain made it past his lips. The tall man leaned in close, breath hot like acid on Levi’s ear. “Come with me. And don’t try to escape.” Just as quickly, the ruthless monster Levi glimpsed darted behind that placid mien of another office worker. A shiver that wasn’t quite fear shot down his spine.

“Fuck you,” Levi spat.

But Shitty Brows had a grip on his wrist like Scrooge on money, and the set of his broad shoulders told Levi it would be a poor idea to make a scene. So he obeyed.

The mysterious final destination turned out to be a cafe one long taxi cab ride away. Not some fancy place with an unpronounceable name and patrons with upturned noses more suited for looking down than for actual use, but a mom-and-pop shop called the Survey Corps that smelled of fresh roasted beans and had mismatched pillows. Levi found himself impressed by the shelf of french presses at the back and the three shining slow-drippers behind the counter. One barista was sniffing the brew he made, and with a wince of disgust, poured it down the sink.

Bless his tiny mustache. Standards. This place had _standards_. The caffeine-junkie in Levi almost considered offering up his body for drinks from this place.

Shitty Brows didn't release his wrist until some little (boy? girl?) host named Armin seated across from each other in a booth, far from the windows and the chill of late autumn. Moments later, a sweet-faced waitress approached them and introduced herself as ‘Christa’. Levi stared at her for a moment, wondering if the aforementioned trolling deity was laughing himself to death, because he was being f _ucking inundated by these blond, blue-eyed things practically radiating teeth-curling goodness_ and it reminded him enough of Shitty Brows that it was pissing him off.

Even better. One of them was probably fucking the freckled barista, given how the bitch was giving him a look that promised castration. Levi returned one with equal menace, all too happy for an outlet.  
  
“I hate this place,” he declared when he directed his glare back towards his captor. Neither of them believed his words, not when he could barely keep his eyes off the menu.

“Too bad,” Shitty Brows replied pleasantly. His first smile for Levi was the smile of politicians, all angles and curves calculated by formula for maximal trustworthiness and minimal authenticity. Levi wanted to claw his eyes out - Shitty Brows', not his own. He could see the sly flicker of shrewdity behind the facade of clean-cut morality, and that was worse than a whole herd of Armins and Christas.

“Fuck you,” he reiterated. Just in case he didn’t hear him the first time. Levi was thorough, if nothing else.

The patrons of the booth next to them gave them a disapproving look but Shitty Brows ignored him. “I will take two of the lunch specials and coffee,” he said to Christa when she returned with with two cups of water. Levi sneered at him.

“That’s classy. You’re really going drag me here just to get off on eating all that food in front of me?”

“One set is for you…” he trailed off, creating space for his name.

“Your majesty,” Levi said flatly.

“Like I was saying, one set is for you, Oliver,” the other man said without missing a beat. His face was a perfect mask asking to be ripped off, but Levi got the distinct sense that he was laughing at him. For a moment, a thread of fear curled his stomach as ice blue eyes looked at him, because Levi had to wonder if he already knew his name and everything about him. Then that fear was overtaken by the comfortable burn of anger, because Levi hated not knowing and if anyone made any mention of ‘Olevi’, he was going to _fucking shove his boot so far up their ass that 'bootlicker’ would take on a whole new meaning._

“Tch, it’s your money, Shitty Brows.” He crossed his arms, daring him to take it back when Levi didn’t melt into an obsequious puddle of gratitude.

“Ah, how rude of me. I haven’t introduced myself yet,” Shitty Brows said, as if Levi had called him a term of endearment. “My name is Erwin Smith. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He extended his hand for handshake but Levi only gave it a disgusted glance.

“Trust me, the feeling’s not mutual, Shitty Brows.”

Erwin only gave him another not-quite-smile.

Levi gave up trying to crack his unshakable calm. And fortunately, Erwin didn’t push for conversation. In fact, he didn’t even look at Levi. He pulled a sheaf of papers from his designer briefcase and read with eyebrows drawn together in a frown. Even though he was tall even by normal standards, he didn’t seem out of place. Rather, his environment seemed to bend itself to make room for him like a funhouse mirror.

Levi tapped his fingers on the table for a moment. He glanced at the door, estimating the number of seconds needed to reach it, fling it open, and abscond into the crowds. As much as he would have liked to eat here, he could get a lifetime of free meals in prison. Not fucking worth it. Levi survived because he was smart and fast. But Erwin was smarter _and_ smart enough to remain steps ahead of even Levi’s speed.

Erwin didn’t look up from his documents. He flipped to the next page, eyes scanning the words intently. Levi stared at the hand that held his papers. Erwin’s knuckles bulged out, latticed with faint scars old and new. “Don’t,” he said.

So Levi didn’t.

But he convinced himself it was because Christa appeared with their pot of coffee. To prove his point, he grabbed the handle right from underneath Erwin’s upraised hand. and then poured himself a cup. He leaned back, crossed his legs, and picked up the cup by the rim. Even if Freckled Lesbitch had dumped in hydrochloric acid, he was still drinking it because it smelled heavenly.

Levi ignored the plates of food that followed, but Erwin methodically cleared his plate with impeccable manners. At least he ate neatly - Levi would have left if he was forced to share a table with a pig.

"I have a proposition for you,” Erwin said as he set down his silverware and wiped his mouth.

  
"No." Levi was feeling much less generous when the bargaining tool was already settling nicely in his stomach. He took another sip of coffee.

“I will buy you anything else you wish on the menu if you listen.” Levi’s pupils slid back towards Erwin and he gave him a sideways glare. But one fine eyebrow lifted expectantly. “I am a lawyer working on a case involving a string of murders.”

“Can’t help you there - I’m not a murderer,” Levi said with a shrug. “Extra large macchiato, to-go.”

“I know, but let me finish first, “ Erwin said, undeterred. He picked his beloved sheaf of papers back up. “I am aware that is not your jurisdiction, but I need eyes and ears in places I can't quite access right now. I would like to ask your help on this matter."

Realization slammed into Levi's gut like the bumper of a truck. "Shitty Brows...how long have you been watching me?"

"You are the only person who knows this area well enough. Can you meet me here tomorrow?”

Levi looked at him. He hated his conventionally-handsome mask and knowing looks and tailored wrinkle-resistant suit and fucking helmet of hair because _seriously that shit was either a toupee or Shitty Brows had his own zipcode-sized hole in the ozone layer from all the hairspray he used_. He didn’t know he could hate someone so much until this moment, but maybe environmental activism was his hidden passion.  

Everything about Erwin was a carefully structured lie. But those creepy-ass baby blues were earnest, even if nothing else about him seemed true. And Levi was intrigued by how Erwin had managed to stalk him for so long without his notice.

“What time?” He could always agree and just never show up again.

Erwin relaxed and his first genuine smile illuminated his eyes like bad neon lights. “How’s ten?” _And of course he would have a dimple in one cheek when he does that shit._ Freckled Lesbitch definitely did something to his coffee, because Levi just got a case of heartburn that felt like someone running an illegal moshpit in his chest.

_Fuck._

He was actually considering it.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not sure if caffiene-addict-Levi is a thing, but it’s kinda headcanon now due to one of those rp tumblogs.


End file.
